


All's Fair in Love and Laundry

by larrymylove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Basically, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Girl Direction, Laundry, So Married, Teasing, They do laundry together, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and fall in love, is that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6310003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrymylove/pseuds/larrymylove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“What the fuck are you wearing there, mate?” A female voice asked, laced with amusement.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry gritted her teeth and gripped a t-shirt tightly in her hands as she replied in a taut voice, “Look, I’ve had a long day and this is all that was clean. So I’m obviously doing laundry. Also, obviously, I’m not in the mood to defend my fashion choices right now after said long day, so...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Whatever,” the voice said, “You look like you’re wearing a fucking parachute. A fucking parachute with cats on.”</em>
</p><p>Harry has run out of clothes to wear. So she puts on the hideous nightgown Gemma got her for Christmas and prays no one sees her as she makes a mad dash to the laundry room to fix her clothing situation. Of course, the universe hates her (or maybe loves her) because in walks the most beautiful girl Harry has ever seen. Banter and teasing ensue and maybe a bit of romance too. And maybe, just maybe, that ugly nightgown wasn't such a bad thing after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Fair in Love and Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> Just some tooth-rotting fluff to sweeten up your evening :)

Harry was exhausted. She’d had such a long day, between running around campus to her classes, to working a shift at the bakery. Exhausted was an understatement, really. She’d come home to her flat, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it, taking a moment to take a deep breath and unwind. She had fixed herself some spinach pasta for dinner before sinking into a bathtub with lavender scented foamy bubbles, putting on a playlist of relaxing music. It had been a lovely bath, really. The perfect thing she needed in order to unwind from her hectic day. After pruning for a bit, Harry showered to rinse off the bubbles, and stepped out of the tub. She wrapped a towel around her waist and walked across the hall of her flat to her bedroom. Opening her dresser drawer, she expected to find a drawer full of snuggly pajamas. Instead, all she saw was an empty drawer. Well, _mostly_ empty. There was a fleecy [nightgown](http://s7d5.scene7.com/is/image/vermontcountrystore/64294_red?wid=260&hei=340&&id=SvMTc1&fmt=jpg&fit=constrain,1&wid=271&hei=480) and one lone sock. _Shit._

Apparently with how busy she’d been this last week, she’d completely forgotten to do laundry. With some little hint of hope still clinging on, she threw open her closet door. Only a few winter coats hung towards the back. Nothing. Then Harry’s hamper caught her eye - her old wicker thing she’d brought from home when she’d first moved in. It was overflowing with clothes that needed washing. Harry let out a groan. She could easily just wear something dirty. But that wasn’t who she was. There was no way she could feel comfortable in dirty clothes. And she knew she could just sleep naked, she really wasn’t above that. But she needed to do laundry anyway. Sighing, Harry glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was a little after ten at night. No one really did laundry this late, did they? Surely she’d be safe.

Harry pulled out the fleecy [nightgown](http://s7d5.scene7.com/is/image/vermontcountrystore/64294_red?wid=260&hei=340&&id=SvMTc1&fmt=jpg&fit=constrain,1&wid=271&hei=480) from her drawer. It really was quite hideous. Gemma had given it to her as a Christmas gift one year. It was massive, boxy-shaped, and had a pattern of kittens playing with balls of yarn printed throughout the fabric. Harry never wore it on an occasion where she’d been seen. Sure, it was comfy for snuggling in bed with Netflix and a glass of wine after a long day in the dead of London winter. But the fact that she’d actually have to donne the thing run downstairs to the basement of the complex to do laundry, kind of made her want to crawl into a hole.

 _No one is going to see you_ , Harry told herself. _It’s late. No one is going to be doing laundry at this hour. Just put the damn thing on, take your hamper, and go to the laundry room. Besides, even if someone sees you, what do you care? You’re your own person. You can rock this nightgown! You’ve got this!_

Harry pulled the nightgown over her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror attached to the front of her closet door.

She didn’t have this.

The nightgown fell well below her knees. The sleeves came to her hands. Gemma had in all genuineness ordered the thing in question from a catalog that specicialized in clothing for elderly women. And while yes, it _was_ comfy, it looked horrendous on Harry’s frame. She felt awkward and she, in her mind, resembled a sack of potatoes. The shape was about right, honestly.

She grabbed her still-wet curls, and threw them up in a bun at the top of her head. She could do this. What did she care if anyone saw her? Their opinions didn’t matter. What was it that Liam was always telling her? Ah yes, tigers don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.

Then again, tigers didn’t have to wear this nightgown.

Harry let out groan and lifted her hamper up off the floor. She snatched her keys off the kitchen counter, locked her door, and headed towards the elevators. As she descended to the basement where the laundry room was, she said silent prayers and mantras to whomever was listening that no one would see her in such a hideous thing. _Please, please, please gods of all things good and holy, don’t let anyone see me!_

The elevator doors pinged and opened. Harry took a deep breath and headed towards the laundry room. It was always stuffy in the laundry room, no real proper ventilation. And it always smelled of a strange mix of stagnant, moldy water, and detergent. Harry wrinkled her nose at the smell, never having gotten used to it in spite of having lived in the complex for a little over a year now.

She plopped her hamper down at a counter and began to sort her clothes out - lights, darks, towels - into piles. She decided the lights should probably be first. Those were where her pajamas were sorted, and she could get out of this nightgown far quicker that way. She dumped the whites into an empty washer. She grabbed some of the provided detergent off the shelf and dumped it in on top of the clothes. After sliding her laundry card into the deposit, she pressed, “WARM” and closed the lid.

As the washing machine began to come to life, Harry glanced around the laundry room. She supposed she could go up to her flat. It would reduce the risk of someone seeing her. But she figured it wouldn’t take too long for the washing to be finished, so instead of heading back out, she started a load of her darks and towels in two other empty washers and took a seat at one of the chairs off to the side wall.

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her nightgown and decided to flick through Tumblr a bit to pass the time. After blogging a few aesthetic pictures of various brunch items, along with some poetic quotes, and a couple of gifs from Gaycation, the first washer buzzed. Harry hopped up and hurried towards it to move the clothes into one of the dryers. She plopped the soggy clothes on top of the dryer and began to shake each item of clothing out so it’d dry faster, before tossing them into the open door of the dryer.

As she was about half-way through the pile, someone behind her let out an obnoxious snort.

Harry stiffened. Her prayers had apparently gone unanswered. _Shit._

“What the fuck are you wearing there, mate?” A female voice asked, laced with amusement.

Harry gritted her teeth and gripped a t-shirt tightly in her hands as she replied in a taut voice, “Look, I’ve had a long day and this is all that was clean. So I’m obviously doing laundry. Also, obviously, I’m not in the mood to defend my fashion choices right now after said long day, so...”

“Whatever,” the voice said, “You look like you’re wearing a fucking parachute. A fucking parachute with cats on.”

Harry threw the t-shirt into the dryer with a bit of force before turning on her heel to see who the horrible person who was making of her fashion choices was. Who she saw before her made her knees go a bit weak. Standing next to the counter, with a hamper propped on her hip, was the most gorgeous girl Harry had ever seen. She had caramel colored skin and long brown hair that she’d tossed up into a messy pony tail. She was wearing joggers and a tank. She was barefoot, and Harry noticed some chipped lime green polish on her toes. The girl was _fit_ , was the thing. So, so fit. Like athletic but still curvy in all the right bits. And Harry felt weak on her feet.

Of course a fit girl would see her while she was dressed like this.

Harry was quite certain the universe hatred her.

No other logic made sense.

“First off, _mate_ ,” Harry said, turning back to her laundry, “I’m not your mate. Secondly, what part of ‘not in the mood’ did you not understand?”

“Whatever you say, Tabitha.”

“My name is not Tabitha.”

“Tabitha sounds like a cat lady’s name. I’m calling you Tabitha from now on. Because clearly only a crazy cat lady would own something like that.”

Harry clenched her teeth.

“I’m ignoring you,” she said flatly, starting the dryer. Her other washers were done, so she moved to put those clothes into their perspective dryers as well. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the very fit, very _obnoxious_ girl, dumped her entire hamper into one washer.

“Your colors will run if you do that,” Harry frowned.

“I thought you were ignoring me, Tabitha.”

“I’m trying to be helpful,” Harry gritted out.

“Babe, I’ve been doing laundry for years,” the girl rolled her eyes, “I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Clearly you don’t.”

“Clearly you don’t know how to dress. Am I commenting on that fact?”

“Yes! You have been since you stepped in here!”

“Oh,” the girl blinked, then shrugged and continued to dump her clothes into one washer.

Harry shook her head and turned her attention back to her dryers. Once all three dryers were going, she plopped back down at her chair and pulled her phone out. She tried to pay attention to her Tumblr feed as opposed to the fit girl just a few feet from her. Her cheeks flushed. Honestly, who did that girl think she was?

The fit girl came over and sat down next to Harry.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Not doing a very good job of ignoring me, are you, Tabitha.”

“My name is _Harry!_ ” Harry cried, glancing up from her phone, and fuming, “And why are you sitting here?”

“Well, _Harry,_  in case you didn’t notice, I’m waiting on my laundry to finish up.”

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?” Harry asked desperately.

“Can’t you?” The girl quirked a perfectly shaped brow.

Harry honestly didn’t know what else to say besides, “I was here first!” Because apparently, when she felt uneasy, she reverted back to being seven years old.

“Mature, Tabitha.”

Harry was fuming now, even more so. She felt as if she had steam coming from her ears as she turned to face the girl next to her, “Haven’t you ever run out of clean clothes? And had to resort to wearing the very last item of clothing you have?”

“Can’t say I have, mate,” the girl grinned slyly, “If I ever get into a bind like that, I find that shaking a t-shirt off from the floor and spraying a bit of air freshener does wonders.”

“Oh my God,” Harry deadpanned, “You’re disgusting.”

“It’s a better solution than wearing that thing,” the girl said, poking at the flannel covering Harry’s thigh.

Harry swatted at her hand, “I honestly didn’t think anyone would see me in this,” she said, “No one does laundry this late. Except for you,” she narrowed her eyes, “Why are you doing laundry this late?”

“You aren’t the only one who’s had a long day, Tabitha,” the girl said, leaning back in her chair a bit, “This is the only time I have to do laundry usually. School gets out around three, and I’m there until four to five some evenings. And because teacher salaries are shit, I work a couple shifts at the cafe a few blocks from here. I usually don’t get home until about nine, and I have to be up at school by seven each morning. So...this is laundry time.”

Harry blinked, trying to process the avalanche of information she’d been bombarded with, “You um...you’re a teacher?”

“Yup,” the girl said, popping the p, “Primary school gym class to be specific.”

“Oh,” Harry blinked. You needed to have graduated uni to be a teacher, even a gym teacher. That must mean the girl was older than Harry. Harry felt slightly dizzy. She still had another two years of uni left to go before she could even dream of getting her degree.

“And what do you do, Tabitha? Besides run around in kitty nightgowns.”

Harry rolled her eyes, “I am a student,” she said, suddenly feeling very young - and the nightgown wasn’t helping, “I’m in uni now. Studying business. And I work at the bakery not too far from here.”

“Business? That doesn’t seem like a course of study for a cat lady.”

Harry closed her eyes, balling her hands into fists at her side as she tried to patiently say, “The owner of the bakery I work at wants to leave me the bakery one day in the next couple of years. I’ve worked there back when I was living at home. The owner adores me and wants me to take over for her. But I don’t know a single thing about running a business. So I’m studying to learn.”

“She wants you to take over?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged sheepishly, “I’ve worked there since I was fifteen. It was pretty close to home, and I thought I was so cool with a weekend job. But I sort of fell in love with it. I’m not a half-bad baker. I enjoy it a lot. And it’s just something that clicks for me. But my parents wanted me to get a degree from university, so I’m doing both.”

“How much longer of uni do you have?” The girl asked.

“Two years,” Harry sighed wistfully, “I just want to be done already though.”

“I feel you,” the girl nodded sympathetically, “I hated uni. But I wanted to teach and I knew I had to get through it if I wanted to teach.”

“Have you always wanted to teach?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I grew up with four sisters at home. And some kids, they hate being the big sibling. But I always loved it. Loved helping me mum take care of ‘em. I’m teaching gym right now because it’s the position that was open and I like sports okay. Footie is me favorite though. But once I get a bit more experience, I’m hoping to apply to teach drama or English to some of the older grades. That’s the idea anyway.”

“So you didn’t graduate all that long ago?” Harry asked, hoping it didn’t sound like she was fishing. Because she wasn’t. She was just curious was all.

“Nah,” the girl chuckled brightly, “Last year. Moved to London for uni. Wanted to go back to Doncaster, where I’m from. But the teaching jobs there were even more limited than here. So I’m making do.”

“London isn’t so bad,” Harry mused, “I grew up in a suburb not far from here. It takes some getting used to though. London’s quite big.”

The girl laughed, “ _London’s quite big,_ ” she mimicked, “What _are_ you talking about?” She asked.

“I…”

“You do talk some shit,” the girl rolled her eyes, still chuckling, “I’m Louis, by the way.”

“Harry,” Harry said, “Not Tabitha, or whatever else. Just Harry.”

Louis quirked a brow, giving Harry a long-once over before saying, “Mate, there’s nothing ‘ _just_ ’ about you.”

Harry felt her cheeks flushed. Louis probably meant the ridiculous nightgown. Harry told herself to try not to take it as anything more than just another dig at her attire.

“So, Harry,” Louis said, pinching the fabric covering Harry’s knee, “Where exactly did you get this ridiculous thing? Did you have to special order it from the cat lady catalog?”

Harry groaned and batted Louis’ hand away a second time, “Stop that,” she said, “And my sister got it for me for Christmas. It’s quite comfy on cold nights, but I never wear it when people will actually see me. Usually just in the privacy of my own bedroom. No one there to see but me and God. I assure you I don’t normally wear stuff like this.”

“And what do you normally wear to bed then?” Louis asked. And okay...was that a hint of flirting in her tone? Harry bit her lower lip. Louis made her dizzy. How could she go from being rude and teasing her to suddenly flirty? Harry pinched the bridge of her nose. Okay, if Louis wanted to play, Harry could play along. She was a good sport, after all.

“Typically, a t-shirt and Calvins,” Harry said honestly.

Louis’ brows shot up. She looked clearly impressed as she nodded and said, “My kind of woman.”

“It’s only fair though,” Harry bit her lip, looking at Louis expectantly, “that since _I_ answered the question, you answer it as well. What do you normally wear to bed, Lou?”

And Harry really, _really_ hadn’t meant to use a nickname. But Louis didn’t seem bothered. Actually, she seemed as cool as a cucumber as she leaned back in her chair and smoothly replied with -

“Typically nothing.”

Harry tried not to choke on her own saliva, “N-nothing?” She asked, “Don’t you...get cold?”

Louis laughed at her, “That’s what blankets are for, babe. And cuddling.”

“Do you um…” Harry really, really didn’t know why she was asking this, “...have someone to cuddle normally?”

Louis laughed at her again before playfully arching her brow and asking, “Why? Are you offering?”

Harry opened her mouth to say something just as one of her dryers buzzed. She hopped up from her chair and scurried over to the dryer, thankful for the distraction. She pulled out her clothes and set them on the counter to fold them. She concentrated on folding one of her t-shirts as Louis came over and plucked a black Calvin Klein thong from the pile of laundry.

“Hey! Give that back!” Harry protested, trying to snatch it from Louis’ hands.

Louis just smirked, stretching it back and popping it against Harry’s hip, “So you’re a thong kind of girl then?” She asked playfully.

“Stop it!” Harry snatched the thong back, trying to ignore the hot blush on her cheeks and the way her stomach seemed to take a dive, as she shoved the thong under the pile of clothes, “God you’re impossible, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” Louis smiled rocking on the balls of her feet, “So I’ve been told.”

“Make yourself useful then and help me fold these,” Harry said. To her surprise, Louis actually began to help her fold her clothes. She neatly folded a t-shirt, tucking the sleeves and carefully forming the folds.

“Rolling Stones fan?” Louis asked, noting the t-shirt she’d just folded.

“Yup,” Harry nodded, “I’ve had that shirt for so long. It’s ripping, but I can’t bear to throw it out.”

“Ooh, what’s this?” Louis asked delightedly. Harry felt her stomach drop. She knew which shirt Louis was reaching for. “ _Sigma Tau Wet T-Shirt Contest Finalist,_ ” Louis read on the back of the tiny white t-shirt she was holding, “Whoa, Tabitha!”

“Shut up!” Harry snatched the shirt back, “It was...it was stupid. My friend Niall made me do it with her. She’s in a sorority and the contest was held by a frat. It was a really dumb thing.”

“But you were a finalist,” Louis said, blue eyes wide.

“Yes,” Harry nodded, feeling a surge of pride jolt through her, “I was.” Then, because she was a little high from the jolt of pride, and because she liked besting Louis at her own game, she tacked on, “But I don’t think it was really fair. I mean, they probably just picked me because of the nipple piercings. Which I don’t think was really fair to the other girls…”

Louis’ jaw dropped unabashedly, “You have nipple piercings?” She asked.

“Yup,” Harry answered easily. It had been something she’d wanted forever, and one day she’d finally just done it. It hadn’t really been for anyone else but herself. She always had thought nipple piercings were so, so incredibly hot. And Harry was a big believer in being a turn-on to yourself.

Which might be hard to believe considering her current outfit situation…

“ _Jesus_ ,” Louis whistled. Just then, Louis’ washer pinged and she seemed to struggle to pull herself away to go attend to it.

While Louis was putting her clothes into a dryer, Harry continued to fold her laundry from the other dryers. She may or may not have watched as Louis bent over to toss her clothes into the dryer. She was just so fit, was the thing. And her bum...Harry had never seen anyone with such a glorious bum before. It kind of took her breath away. Louis was just so pretty, and so fit, and so overwhelming. And Harry was feeling very, very much overwhelmed.

“Should be all finished up in about thirty minutes,” Louis said, brushing her hands on the thighs of her joggers, “Want me to help you fold some more?”

“Sure,” Harry said, scooting over to allow Louis to slot up beside her at the counter.

“So...about those nipple piercings…”

“Oh no you don’t,” Harry laughed, folding together two socks into a bunch, “You already know two things about me that no one really knows. The wet t-shirt contest, and the piercings. It’s only fair you tell me something about you that no one really knows.”

“Mean,” Louis pouted.

“Go on then,” Harry chuckled, folding a pair of skinny jeans.

“Okay, okay,” Louis rolled her eyes before pointing a finger at Harry, “And you say _I’m_ impossible. Fine, fine. I um...I have a tattoo.”

“Okay,” Harry shrugged, “Lots of people of tattoos, Lou.”

“On me bum,” Louis added.

And oh. _Oh._

“Is that so?” Harry asked, trying ever so hard not to let her voice sound too strained.

“Yup,” Louis smirked, “Want to see?”

“Are you asking if I want to see your bum, Lou?”

Louis rolled her eyes, “Just one cheek. No funny business.”

“Alright,” Harry caved, because really, how could she not, “Show me your bum tattoo then.”

Louis grinned, turning around and pulling down her joggers a tad to reveal a peach on her left cheek.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, “You do _not_ have a peach tattooed on your bum!”

“You’re looking at it, babe,” Louis laughed, wiggling her joggers back up over her hip.

“Oh my God,” Harry laughed. Really, who even was Louis?

“Since we’re all about _fairness_ here,” Louis smirked, folding her arms over her chest. And really, Harry didn’t like that look on her face. It was a dangerous look, and Harry knew instantly that she was in some deep, deep trouble, “I think it’s only _fair_ that you show me yours.”

“You want to see my bum?” Harry asked, knowing perfectly well that wasn’t what Louis was asking.

“The _piercings_ , babe,” Louis rolled her eyes, “No one’s here but us, Haz. It’s just you and me. No one will know. Besides, I showed you mine. It’s only fair that you show me yours.”

Harry felt her cheeks grow hot. Of course Louis would ask that of her. It wasn’t that Harry was shy when it came to her body, because she really wasn’t. It was just...this was a lot. A lot because this was Louis. And Louis overwhelmed her. And Louis was so beautiful and perfect. Harry suddenly felt very self-concious.

“Look,” Louis said, stepping closer, “Just unbutton the nightgown and show me. It’s only _fair_ , Haz.”

Apparently Louis was on the nickname basis as well. Harry bit her lower lip, and then nodded. Because Louis had a point. No one was around. It was just them. Besides, what would it hurt? Harry had seen her bum. And boobs were just boobs, right? Harry could show her.

Harry began to unbutton the top of the nightgown to just above her belly button. She watched Louis as Louis’ eyes went a bit wide and her candy-floss pink lips parted slightly. Louis was turned on, Harry realised. And holy shit, she hadn’t really anticipated that. She reached up and pulled apart the front of her nightgown, exposing her boobs - nipple piercings and all. She should feel shyer, she really should - all exposed like this for anyone to see, for _Louis_ to see. But the fact that Louis’ pupils were blown and her cheeks were flushed pushed any shyness from Harry.

“ _Wow_ ,” Louis said on a breath.

Harry smirked, buttoning her nightgown back up as Louis let out a soft whine that probably wasn’t meant to be as vocal as it was. And well, that was something.

“We’re even then,” Harry turned back to folding her laundry.

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, frozen in place, “I-I guess we are.”

“Are you going to help me fold or not, Lou?” Harry asked brightly.

“Um...sure. Yeah, uh-huh,” Louis nodded, taking her place back next to Harry.

They didn’t say anything as they continued to fold Harry’s clothes. Louis didn’t even glance at her, and Harry noticed that Louis’ cheeks and the back of her neck were a shade of pretty pink. And Harry had done that. Harry had had that effect on her.

Finally, their silence was broken by the buzzing of Louis’ dryer. Louis went to it and pulled her clothes out, stuffing them back into the hamper without folding them. Harry’s clothes were all folded neatly and stacked in her own hamper.

“Well, looks like we’re done,” Louis said, her voice sounding strained.

“Looks like it,” Harry nodded, “Want to ride up with me?” She asked.

“Sure,” Louis nodded, following Harry out of the laundry room. Harry pressed the UP button for the elevator, and they waited in silence.

Once on the elevator, Harry asked, “What floor are you?”

“Five,” Louis said.

Harry pressed the FIVE and was about to press the THREE for her own floor when a hand covered hers and lowered it down from the panel.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Louis said, “I’m going to sleep naked tonight. And I’m going to be cold. And I am going to need a cuddle. And I want that cuddle to come from a cute girl in a ridiculous cat nightgown because she looks like she could be warm and soft. And even though she’s absolutely ridiculous and very quirky, she’s also very, _very_ hot and if I don’t invite you back up to mine, I’m going to regret it forever.”

Harry’s jaw dropped slightly. She blinked as she tried to process what Louis had just said. And Louis was looking at her with such a pleading look in her eyes that Harry couldn’t say anything but yes to her.

“A cuddle?” She asked.

“A cuddle,” Louis nodded, “I’m sleeping naked, but no funny business, Tabitha. I don’t put out until at least the third date.”

“O-okay,” Harry nodded, brain trying to process what Louis had just told her.

“That a yes then?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded again, “That’s a yes.”

“And Haz?”

“Yeah Lou?” Harry asked. The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Louis took off towards her flat, Harry trailing behind.

Louis called back behind her, “While doing laundry together is all cute and fun and domestic, for our second date, if you could be a bit more romantic, that’d be great. I’m thinking a nice dinner. I’m a classy girl, Haz. What can I say? And for the love of God, dress appropriately please. I may reconsider putting out if you pick me up dressed in a parachute with kittens on it.”

Harry gasped indignantly.

Louis may or may not have wound up with the black Calvin thong tossed onto her head.

And when Harry moved into Louis’ flat about two months later, and Louis squawked and protested as Harry tried to put the kitten nightgown into her side of the dresser, Harry simply reminded her that had it not been for the hideous nightgown in question, they’d never have met and what a terrible tragedy that’d have been.

Her speech may or may not have led to Louis grabbing her and tackling her onto the bed.

“I don’t care,” Louis said defiantly, twenty minutes later, panting slightly with a sheen on her forehead, the blankets and sheets wrapped around the two of them in a messy heap, “That thing is not going in my dresser.”

“ _Our_ dresser,” Harry corrected, kissing her sweetly before flipping them so that she was straddling Louis’ hips, “And I bet I can think of a thing or two that’ll change your mind.”

In the end, Harry won.

The cat nightgown lived in their shared dresser.

And Louis really didn’t mind it very much at all.

In fact, she sort of loved that ridiciulous nightgown. But not as much as she loved her ridiculous girl.


End file.
